


Missed It!

by Stricklanderkin (bl00dw1tch)



Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: Babies, Changelings, How Do I Tag, Implied Relationships, M/M, Not Beta Read, Pregnancy, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 04:15:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19863319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bl00dw1tch/pseuds/Stricklanderkin
Summary: Just some post childbirth cuteness I wrote a while back--very nearly a Fluff version of pwp





	Missed It!

"Otto?" Strickler's voice sounded weak and exhausted coming through the phone, but the polymorph in question was too wrapped up in reviewing reports to notice. 

"What is it now?" He asked, not quite irritated, but clearly less than interested. He'd gotten many a call from his expectant mate over the past few weeks--needing help rearranging the house, getting more food and supplies in preparation for the upcoming arrivals. Nothing necessarily bad to ask for, Otto had enough compassion to humor the winged changeling's anxieties, but it still got tiresome. 

The line was dead for a bit, and all he could hear was Strickler's breathing and the gentle rustle of blankets. 

"I--Uh…" Strickler began, his voice wavering a bit with a sigh that almost sounded like the beginnings of a laugh, "You just--you need to get over here." 

Otto was confused and concerned now, given his tone. Putting down his pen and turning his chair, poised to get up, focusing on the call, "What's wrong? Is someone there? Did you fall? Did you--are you--" He gasps in short realization, " **_Has it started?!_ ** "

Strickler finally laughed. It was a breathless, elated thing. 

"I'm sorry, you, um--well, you actually kind of missed it?" He offered with another little laugh--Otto was on his feet in seconds, grabbing his coat and hat and bolting out of his office, shoulder checking other Janus Order members as he races passed them to the elevator. 

"What do you  _ MEAN  _ I MISSED IT?! Why didn't you call?!" Otto tried not to yell--he really tried. He was not angry, just distressed and mildly disappointed, "Are you ok? Do you need me to bring anything? Are  _ they _ ok?! How many survived?!" His questions came out rapid fire as he paced the elevator and stormed outside, struggled to get into his car without putting the phone down. 

Strickler's laughter only continued on the other side, the condescending twinge to it painted the visual of him shaking his head clear in Otto's mind, "Slow down, slow down! Everything's fine, I'm ok,  _ they're  _ all ok--I think, at least--, I just need you to get here so I can actually get them cleaned up--" 

"--I'm on the road now, and what do you mean by 'you think so'?  _ Is there something wrong with one of them? _ " He insisted as he peeled down the street, thankful that the traffic was minimal right now, just as dusk. 

Strickler's voice turned down a bit at the way Otto asked--the polymorph could hear his frown, and it made him regret. 

"I'll explain everything when you get here. Don't get into a car wreck, please--that would put a huge damper on today." Strickler said, hanging up before Otto could respond. The german grimaced to himself, but pushed the thoughts away, taking a sharp turn off the main road into Strickler's neighborhood. Strickler still wants him there, that's good. 

The sun was set when he pulled into the driveway. He knew where the spare key was, so he let himself in. 

The house was lit, thankfully--he locked the door behind him before tossing his things on the couch, shifting to his troll form and running upstairs. 

The scent was something entirely unique and pungent--coming from Strickler's nesting room. Something in Otto almost made him reluctant to open the door, but then he heard the impossibly quiet squeaks of many small fawns inside. 

"Otto? Is that you?" Strickler's voice came muffled through the door, sounding even more exhausted now than it did on the phone somehow. 

The polymorph was finally jogged from his paralysis, "AH--I mean, yes, yes, it's just me, it's ok, I'm, uh," he trailed off, opening the door slowly to look inside. 

Strickler was hunched over, off to the side away from the main source of the scent--the blood and anaemic fluid. He was looking over to the door, ears lifted but not at all stiff or tense, he smiled at Otto, "Thanks for not dying on your way here. It would not have been nice to have to have waited, or called someone else…" He joked with a chuckle, but the sound came out tight. 

He lifted his wings, curling them against his back and flopping to the side away from Otto. And thus was the reveal--six incredibly small little changeling fawns, lined up neatly in a rainbow of greens, purples, and teals. 

And Otto crumbled to his knees. 

He scooted closer, hovering over them just as close as he dared, eyes wide in amazement. His tail thumped against the blankets behind him as he reached forward to brush the knuckles of his fingers over each of them gently. Strickler made no protest, and the little ones barely stirred, curling and uncurling in an attempt to find a comfortable position to sleep off the ordeal of being born in. 

Otto finally turned his eyes away from his children--his  _ children! _ \--, intent on looking at their creator now. 

Strickler was looking down at them with a look in his tired, aged eyes that Otto had never seen before. With hair sticking to his face in the messiest was, cheeks slick with what was left of the pained tears he'd shed, chest still recovering and calming of the heaving it must have been doing, what, only an hour ago? He was filthy, and tired, and happy, and beautiful. 

Otto opened his mouth to speak, finally, "Which… Which one was the first?" He asked, mostly only as a formality. It's always good to know, even though he already knew it wouldn't matter. 

"Your left to your right," Strickler answered, sucking in a sniffled breath and trying to sit himself up, wiping the face from his hair now, "I put them in order."

Otto gave him a confused look before glancing down again and snorting in genuine laughter, "Trust you to be that pointlessly meticulous in a situation like this," he joked, sitting back and looked at him again. That look in his eyes was gone, and he was frowning. 

Otto took a deep breath, "Why didn't you call me before it started?" He finally asked, keeping his voice as soft as he could. 

Strickler's ears drooped, a feeling akin to embarrassment crossing his face, "I was… Already up here, and--I just panicked. I wasn't sure whether I should or not and by the time I was ready to decide, well…" He gestured to the little teal one at the far left end, "It was a bit too late." 

Otto nodded in understanding--and he meant it! He knew Strickler was the skittish type, so it wasn't completely unexpected. 

"And them. How are they? You said you weren't sure." Otto asked again, and he could see Strickler twinge away from the question, keeping his eyes on them as he shifted a bit. 

His voice was clipped and tense, "One was having more trouble than the others, trying to breathe--he got the hang of it, I promise, I don't think it's anything big, I think he'll be ok--"

" _ Stricklander _ ," Otto interrupted, reaching forward to put his hands on Strickler's shoulders, "It's fine. That's good! You don't need to worry, I'm not an  _ animal _ ," He said firmly, if a bid condescendingly, "I won't be hurting any of them. I swear it on my life." 

Strickler stayed there to just absorb the words for a minute, grabbing Otto's wrist and nuzzling his face into Otto's hand with a nod and another deep sniffle, "Right, Right… I'm sorry, I just--you know," He gestured with his other hand before dropping it down. 

Otto did know. It wasn't uncommon for Trolls to kill, eat, or abandon the weakest young, especially Gumm-Gumm's, to avoid 'wasting resources'. But Otto wasn't a Troll, nor was a true Gumm-Gumm. He did think it was ridiculous of Strickler to ever think Otto was capable of such a thing, but it would be inadvisable to say so. This should be a happy occasion--it would do no good to berate the bearer of his children right after having just done so.

Otto finally pulled his hands away, smiling inwardly at the way Strickler trailed after the touch.

"Alright, so what do we need to do?" He asked.

Strickler sighed, coming his hair back through with his fingers, "First priority is bath time. For all of us." 

After all, one changeling's tongue could only do so much.


End file.
